


Com-munication

by paperdollkisses



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 19:25:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8257565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperdollkisses/pseuds/paperdollkisses
Summary: Thank you to my beta, Rea. She makes the words so pretty.This is actually for a fill on my C/C trope bingo card. It seems like it's so many more words than it is.Bingo Square: Confessions over Comms.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta, Rea. She makes the words so pretty.
> 
> This is actually for a fill on my C/C trope bingo card. It seems like it's so many more words than it is.
> 
> Bingo Square: Confessions over Comms.

“Dear Penthouse... I once went out with a mouse or at least with a guy with a dick the size of one.”

“Barton, Please refrain from being vulgar on the comms. We are, as always, being recorded.”

“Sir, yes sir.”

The silence grew as heavy as the heat around them, not even the slightest breeze to break it.

“Barton?”

“Sir?”

“Was the guys dick the size of a mouse or the size of a mouse’s dick?”

“Why sir, I am shocked that you know what size a mouse’s penis is.”

The corner of Coulson’s mouth ticked up in amusement. “Cut the chatter, Barton.”

“Sir, yes sir.”

~~

More heat, the horizon shimmered with it. It was almost too hot to sweat and the dust and rubble he was covered in wasn’t making it any better. Clint’s lips cracked as he licked them with a tongue that had no spit.

“I…” he coughed a couple of times. “When I was young I remember the ice cream trucks coming around. That stupid song tinkling and stupid kids screaming and chasing it like it was the best thing on earth.” He tried to swallow. “Timmy Jones’s mom bought me and Barney a popsicle once. One of those orange cream push up things? You know the ones?” Clint coughed again, tasting copper. “And you know what, Coulson? You know what?” his voice trailed off into a whisper.

“Come on, Barton. You can’t leave me hanging. What?” Phil tried to keep his voice steady and added a little command to it. Clint always answered when he used that voice.

“It was… it really was the best thing on earth.” 

While Clint was recovering in medical Coulson made sure at least two boxes of push ups showed up in the man’s freezer. If he had a few boxes in his own freezer as a backup no one needed to know.

 

~~

“Knock, Knock?”

“Silence on comms, Barton.”

“Aw, come on Coulson. Knock, Knock?”

Coulson sighed. “Who’s there?”

“Iowa.”

“Iowa who.”

“Iowa big apology to you for bailing on dinner the other night.”

“You’re forgiven, Barton. Eyes on target please.”

“Knock, Knock.”

“Barton.”

“Sir.”

“Who’s there?”

Clint sighed in relief.

“Alex.”

“Alex who?”

“Alex plain later, I promise.”

“Ok.”

~~

“Sir.”

Coulson turned his head as if he was looking up in the sky enjoying the sun, it took him a few seconds to find Clint’s perch. His neck bare of its usual tie and three buttons undone. “Mmm.”

Clint’s brain was stuck on three. Even the three had a stutter stop moment in his head as Coulson extended his legs in a long lazy stretch and arched his back a little on the park bench. Looking all the world like a businessman at lunch. One hand slid up his thigh to not so subtly accentuate his… um… assets.

“Sir, is that a gun in your pocket…” Clint had to swallow before he finished the sentence.

“No, I’m just glad to see you, Clint.” 

It may have been one of the first times in his life that Clint found himself at a loss for words.

~~

“I do.”

“Barton if you don’t shoot that motherfucker down I will make sure your honeymoon is in Antarctica. Now, where was I? Oh, Do you Phil Coulson, take Clint Barton to be your husband as long as you both shall live.”

Phil slid his backup gun out of his ankle holster and took out two minions before responding with a breathless. “I do.” 

The chorus of applause and congratulations over the coms were drowned out by the giant robot’s head exploding. Clint leading the quinjet on a driveby of the building his new husband was on.

“I now pronounce you two husband and husband. Now get shit cleaned up so you can debrief and get out of my sight for two weeks. Fury, Out!” Fury didn’t hide the grin as he removed his comm.


End file.
